On January 3, 2017 I transfered my mom from the psyche hospital in Phoenix to a group home in Gilbert. I drove her myself this time. She wouldn't walk at all but she would stand up to transfer into the car. I was nervous but, everything worked out ok. I brought her clothes and bedding, some pictures and books and got her all moved in. The owner of the home was there. She was a very nice woman. She introduced us to the staff and the other residents. Just 3 other women at this point. I felt good about it. January went well. She was happy and seemed very stable. I visited her everyday.
In February I started to feel concerned for her mental stability. Signs of decline were starting to show. I talked to the staff and they didn't seem to notice much. I trust my instinct though and knew I needed to keep a close eye. I asked to look through her medication and asked specifics on who and how it was being dispensed. I was a little bit worried about it. The main care taker though had experience working in a psyche hospital and assured me that they were taking good care of her and giving her her medication correctly. I trusted them.
In March things rapidly got worse. I knew that she was going to need to go back to the hospital but, I was trying to wait as long as possible to take her for both her sake and my own. Late one Friday night while Dwight and I were out on a date the caretaker called me. We went over and picked her up and took her to the closest emergency room. The next day she was transferred back to the psyche hospital in Phoenix.
She had the same doctor that she had in December. I think this helped a lot. He knew her. She improved very quickly this time. Within just a couple of days he told me that he believed her medication was not being given correctly at the home. That was the only reason she became unstable. He told me that he had been wrong the time before. That she could safely live at home as long as her medication was monitored. She began to walk again after not walking since the previous November. She stayed for 2 weeks. When I picked her up she walked out with a new walker. I took her back to the group home. She wanted to go there. She told me she didn't want to be a burden to anyone and it was easier if she lived there. I took her knowing that I planned to bring her home soon. I had lost my trust in them.
When we returned to the group home I told the home owner that I believed there were mistakes in her medication. I knew the dates I had filled her prescriptions and how many pills there should be. I counted and found the proof that they had not done it correctly. She had missed 2 different medications for an entire month. She assured me that changes would be made and the problems corrected. I organized all of her medication. Each day I went back I would check again. Every day there was a new problem with her medication. Staff was going in and changing things in her pill pack after I fixed it. Every day this would happen. I took pictures everyday of the mistakes. After just a few days of being back there I knew I needed to bring her home. She was walking again. I knew I could do this.
So in April my mom came home. It was a little harder than when she left in December. She needs more help now. My Aunt Patty helps her with a simple breakfast and lunch. I take care of all her medications. My girls and I make sure they have dinner each night. Often they eat something different than us because of issues with teeth or swallowing or dietary things. So, we make 2 dinners most nights. I help her shower a couple times a week. We have a shower chair and it works out just fine. She can change her clothes and clean up on her own in between.
We visit the psychiatrist once a month to make sure she is stable. We go to the primary care doctor every 6 months and the eye doctor every 3 months (she has glaucoma and they check her eye pressures). She is happy and doing well. Sometimes I have to talk her through things and help her see reality and manage stress. She has so much faith and hope though. She is a great example to me. Although I would say her mental illness is part of the hardest trials of my life I wouldn't change it. I'm thankful for all that I have learned from her. I'm thankful she is my mother.
I don't like to talk about the specifics of her illness to protect her feelings (not that she reads or even knows about this little blog). But, for my prosperity's sake (they may need to know someday) I will say that she struggles with paranoid schizophrenia and depression because of it. Stress is a huge trigger for her. I'm afraid of getting it! But, I am passed the age when it shows up and have no signs of it. :)
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